I'm Becky, as you might have guessed from my username. I don't like my username anymore as I made it a while ago and it seems meh now. But I can't be bothered to change it, so stay it will.

I'm 22 years old, a woman loose on the internets. I'm brunette, have bright greeny/yellow eyes, and a shortarse at 5'2".. If I knew how to put a picture on here, I would. And I was born in Portsmouth, but my family are from oop north in Blackpool. So my accent and some of my mannerisms are slightly odd.

I work in a shop, as Customer Service. It pays the bills just about. I'm training to be a tattooist in the new year when I am finally allowed to open my new tattoo-gun for Christmas! I don't have any tattoos myself, mind, haven't decided on anything I would like etched into me for the rest of my life yet. :)
Oh and I did my National Diploma in Health and Social Care a couple of years ago. Not sure what I want to do with that.

Oh, and I'm a bit of a biker too. Go to the rallies and have a trike made from scratch by our mechanic for my step dad. Who only has one arm. Usually turns heads and any of you that go to bike shows regularly will probably have heard of Bandit. Give me a shout if you ever going to any in the South!

I have two cats, Midna and Menchi. Points for knowing where those names are from!

Crying?!
In my defence, I was drunk and it seemed a good idea at the time.

Was out clubbing with some of my workmates one night and J was there. J is someone I work with so I have to pretend professionalism. But he's GORGEOUS. Not too tall, not too short, with shoulders and a chest to die for.
And, obviously mistakenly, I thought he liked me! He flirted and always found an excuse to hug me and would never let me get a taxi home alone. He's a real gentleman.

I digress.

We are out clubbing and having a lovely time and I decide that tonight is the night he shall find out that I'm totally wanting to wear him like a new coat. I make the fatal error of telling another colleague that I'm in looooove.
She tells her other half. Who has a thing for me, as evidenced by his continued attempts at groping and HIS attempt at pickup lines (you got great tits love, I'd well do you).

Before you get the wrong idea, she knows he is like this and when they go out, they both get free rein for the night to do whatever with each other. Not my place to judge, whatever works for them, etc etc.

I digress again. This bastard then goes and tells J "that she well wants to fuck you, mate, get in there".

Did I mention J is a gentleman? He runs a mental fucking mile away. Then twatface comes up and tells me what he's said and that J seemed less than impressed, "but don't worry cos you still got me like and I bet I got a bigger dick than him".

I'm drunk, I start to cry a little. My perfect plan and all the effort I made tonight is fucked up. J has seen me crying, and comes over.

NONONONONONNONONONO, don't come over. He does the "hey babe, I really like you, I do, but as really good friends. Please don't cry". Yep, he thinks I'm crying because I've been rejected by him. I just make some noise about I think he got his lines crossed somewhere as I don't know what he's talking about. He looks confused and walks away.

Bollocks.

Moral of this story. Tell a guy you like him to his face. Preferably without booze and interfering knob jockeys.

Or don't say anything at all and lust from afar, which is currently what I'm doing. It's the works Christmas party this Saturday... Do I try again?

And sorry for length, but this has been really cathartic :)
(Thu 10th Dec 2009, 19:40, More)

Teenage crushes?
Balls to the teenage crushes, I have enough at age 22. I must have been a very late bloomer because through school I had exactly two crushes.

Both of them turned out to be suffering from The Gays. Either I was ugly enough to turn boys gay or, (my preferred explanation) I was attracted to fellas with softly spoken voices and a penchant for interior design.

So rebuffed, I resigned myself to a life of fancying Frodo out of Lord of the Rings. I was about 14, but that's still no excuse. I mean, not even Legolas or Aragorn, but bloody Frodo!

I like to think I've matured a little since then but I do get all snail-trail pants over Robert Downey Jr. It's a written contract between me and my fella that if Mr Downey wanted me then I could go. I'm not completely heartless though, he is all up in the bone for Amy Lee and I have kindly allowed him the same privilege with her.

Oooooh but that scene in Iron Man when he's making his first suit and is all sweaty and dirty and pounding a big hammer and you can see all his glorious arms and shoulders and and and.... phew...

And even in Tropic Thunder near the end, look at his EYES! Such gorgeous eyes I have never seen on a man.

On my bike!
Walking to work this time! On my way to work, I get stopped by a polite man on an old run down bike.

He stops me, looks me up and down, and tells me that I'm about the same size as his friend. Um, that's nice?
But that's not all, he had just bought this bike especially for her and wanted to know if she would be able to ride it. This old bike that looked like it had just been dragged out of the sea.

He asked me to get on his bike to see what the size was like. I'm so confused! Is that a chat up line? Did he really have a friend that he needed me to try his bike out on? Is bike a euphemism? Did he just want me on the bike so he could run away with my bag?

I'll never know, as naturally I declined. Any ideas?

Oh and a recent one which made for a large amount of awkward at work. My colleagues dad is a regular customer and he'll often come in and put his arm round your shoulder. Which I'm fine with, put your arm round my shoulders, whatever.
Anyway, he comes in and tells me he hasn't been well with his knee or somesuch other old man thing. I tell him that was a shame, I missed seeing you in here!

So he asks where his hug is and puts his arms out. Internally sighing I go to give him a quick "patpat" hug.
For an old man, he can move fucking fast. One hand has clamped itself on one of my tits, the other has wrapped around me like a creepy octopus. In my ear, I get,

"Do you like this do you? You're lovely, you are. My car's outside, when do you finish?"

This guy is 70 something and my colleagues DAD! On the cameras you see me pull away sharpish, my hands cross over my chest and my face is just shock itself. Horrible horrible old men. I don't touch anyone now and I manage to disappear sharpish-like when he comes in.

Woe is me :(

Oh and I pulled today whilst shopping too. A man (Arabian again*) didn't realise I had a face and walked into a pushchair while looking behind him. I laughed :)

*I got to say I've got nothing against most Arabians. Half my family are from Kuwait(through marriage) and they are great! They would get a royal good hiding if they so much as looked at a girl disrespectfully! It just seems to be that obviously some girls here are sleeping with enough of them that they must think we are all like that!

Ending on a positive note for once!

Best one I heard, and I think it backfired slightly, was this one.

Him: Hey..um... are you free tonight.. or, or do you charge?
Me: Are you calling me a prostitute?
Him: No! Oh god, um I meant are you free, as in not doing anything tonight, not as in money, and and and......
Me: *Roffling internally*

Bless the little cutie. I let him buy me a drink to make up for it, but unfortunately, my services weren't for offer that night :)
(Fri 11th Dec 2009, 20:44, More)

Walking home from work one day, in a generally good mood, I made a fatal error!

I smiled. At a stranger.

I didn't think anything of it. To me, it was a greeting/acknowledgement, not an invitation. So I smile and make eye contact for a split second with the nice Arabian man, go upon my merry way.

Four steps later, I'm grabbed by the shoulder and spun around by this man, who I'd thought was human but was now evidently a rapist and a murderer and a mugger and all the other bad things you think about in that split second. Turns out, he really liked me.

He decided in that moment of eye contact and friendly smile, that I was pining for a man like him. Got to give him credit for actually making that jump. Anyway, after making me nearly wet myself in fear, he introduces himself and tells me he is going to walk me home. I told him that it wasn't necessary and I was perfectly capable of walking myself home.
But no, he then follows me all the way home. It was dark, and cold and there was no one to look beseechingly at for salvation.

He tells me he loves my breasts in my ever so sexy work uniform. I have beautiful eyes, beautiful hair, and a nice personality. If his idea of a nice personality is cowering in fear and a quavering voice trying not to offend him so as not to get attacked, then I feel sorry for any girlfriends he may have had.
He kept asking for my phone number; I kept telling him I didn't have my phone on me. He then somehow got me to agree that I would meet him at "this street corner right here at 3pm Saturday so we can go get drunk and have a good time".

Maybe it's a culture thing, but being told that if I'm not there he'll go to my work(he's seen my uniform under my coat) and get me... well it isn't really a turn on for me.
Neither is being told I have massive tits. Yes, I'm perfectly aware of that. I have to put them in a fucking bra every morning and carry them around all day. Thanks for telling me though.

If you want to get a (nice) girl to like you, you don't have to make them feel like a goddess straight off. Just get on with them, make them aware you find them attractive. The glances and looks and appreciative comments are fine. Grabbing a girl by the shoulders that you don't know, in the dark, when she's on her own, and then proceeding to "walk her home" whilst getting closer and fondling her breasts with your eyes... You may get a female, but you won't get a lady.
(Fri 11th Dec 2009, 0:48, More)